


Basking in Daylight

by pinklights



Series: we're made of similar stuff [2]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, F/M, Getting Back Together, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Post-Canon Fix-It, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Self-Reflection, kind of, lots of feelings, pillowtalk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 15:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20876657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinklights/pseuds/pinklights
Summary: The Black Widow has lost many things in her life but one thing remains constant. Despite being forcibly pulled away from each other, despite the opposite directions they keep running towards, she and the Winter Soldier always manage to stumble into each other's lives, forever tethered to each other. Afar but not apart.





	Basking in Daylight

Meeting in the dark, away from curious eyes, away from the rest of the world—that had been  _ their _ thing what felt like a lifetime ago. A touch of a hand and a small smile later and she was his, completely, as if nothing else mattered. As if she was still her and all the bad that has transpired over the years didn't exist.

How long has it been since she's been truly touched, truly loved? Never. Not since—

He kissed her like his life depended on it, and maybe it did, maybe it was all those years of silent longing, of lingering in the dark and watching her. Just watching. Never intervening, never meddling. (At least not usually. There were a couple of times.) 

Her memories of him came in fragments at first, bits and pieces like a puzzle, like a frame coming in focus. He liked pancakes, she thought randomly when she saw him for the first time in a while. James—she called him James, never the boyish nickname he earned from childhood—the name of a man she loved. He had a sister, she's met her. And oh, he loved Natasha, painfully so. So much that he's lived all this time without telling her in fear of taking away her agency, her freewill. 

Maybe dying had been good, maybe dying brought her back to life. Maybe dying was the only way she was ever going to be able to live again. In the dark. With him. 

His skin felt warm against her fingertips, inviting and familiar. She's done this before, held him, touched him until he was withering beneath her, whispering her name over and over like a prayer he knew by heart. As if she was a god he worshiped, gave offerings to, sacrificed willingly for. 

And in her release, she gifted him with words he's longed to hear, words he never thought would be directed to him ever again. With lips swollen and heavy on his, she whimpered, "I love you." 

And that had been his undoing. There in the dark, in the cocoon of a home she’d pieced together for herself, away from people who've stolen their time and their lives from them, she professed. Because despite the fragments and shattered memories, despite not knowing which ones were real and which ones weren't, she did know one thing: she loved him and she was loved by him. 

And they loved and loved completely, wholly, with complete surrender that she didn't know was possible. The tears in her eyes surprised her as much as they surprised him. He kissed them away, holding her close, holding her so tightly she couldn't breathe. And maybe she'd let death take her again if it meant being held like this one last time, but she couldn't, wouldn't let it. 

"I'm not who I was, James," she whispered as she lay against him, unwilling to untangle their limbs from each other, needing to feel his skin against hers if only to make sure that he was real. 

"Neither am I," he admitted. His fingers idly played with her hair, a familiar gesture, a habit she only now remembered he did. 

"What if we lose each other again, what if we—" 

"No," he said, silencing her worries like he has many times before. "I won't let that happen, not again." 

There were very few people outside of him she trusted with her fears. How many times has he comforted her? Gave her confidence when she felt she had none? Natasha tilted her head back to kiss his jaw. "I'm scared of falling asleep and waking up without you. I'm scared that this is all just a dream." 

His metal fingers grazed softly against her cheek as he looked down at her, brown eyes dark. He captured her mouth against his and kissed her deeply, intimately. Her mouth molded against his as if she’s done this a million times over, and she has, she realized. James pulled away breathless, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers softly. 

"I'm not going anywhere, Natalia."

It was a promise she clung onto as sleep took her that night, arm thrown over him as if to prevent him from leaving. She felt his lips on her forehead as she drifted off, her sleep dreamless and peaceful. She hasn't slept so undisturbed in so long that she was sure she'd wake up alone with her fears realized—without him. But when the morning sun filtered through the blinds and roused her from slumber, she found herself in an embrace, his chest rising and falling behind her, nose tucked in her hair. She’d been desperate not to let him go, not realizing his own fears. 

Natasha closed her eyes again, basking in the warmth of him, the comfort of being held by him, armed with the knowledge that they had the day and the rest of their lives to make up for lost time. 

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Miss Swift's song 'Daylight' and well, Buckynat. That's the only explanation I have for it. (Also, Web of Black Widow #2 with Bucky comes out this month so maybe that, too.) I hope you liked this. Tell me what you think in the comments! <3


End file.
